


Habits

by sstensland



Category: Peter Rabbit (2018), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, This Is Where I Leave You (2014)
Genre: Body Shots, Frottage, Idk how to tag things guys, Implied sub/dom dynamics?, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Thomas McGregor is a hot mess, alcohol use, public fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 03:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sstensland/pseuds/sstensland
Summary: Thomas McGregor finally gets to go on vacation. He doesn’t expect to run into an old flame.For week 3 of the KyluxXOXO summer fest.





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as “salt hot breath” and with Adam Sackler, but I had lost control of everything. 
> 
> I also have a lot of headcanons about Thomas, and I apparently wanted to try and see how many I could fit into a single fic. 
> 
> This fic is also not properly looked over bc I just wanted to be done with it. So apologizes for any mistakes.

Thomas’s breathing halts when the cool liquor pools into his belly button. He should feel ashamed of himself. Absolutely disgusted by himself being on display like this, spread out on the counter of some American bar with his shirt undone, exposing his chest for everyone to see like some wanton filth. He’s better than this. So, so much better than this.

But he’s on  _ vacation _ . 

(He’s been long overdue for a vacation, and oh, does he deserve the freedom he has.)

A hand runs through his hair, far longer than he’s ever had it before. He’ll have to do something about it when he gets back, but that’s a worry for another day. Now—now he’s too many drinks in. His head feels light, fuzzy. His body feels electric when he feels the lips touch his skin. Feels the tongue dip down to get every drop of tequila on him. Feels the tongue trail up his chest to his neck, lapping up the salt on his skin. 

Thomas gasps around the lime slice between his lips at the light nip of teeth at his neck and the strong hands on his skin. This is the fourth body shot done off him tonight, but this has been the most daring recipient. His eyes slip shut at the steady slide of those hands along his side as the lime wedge disappears from his lips. 

He almost whines at the lost of contact, but he’s not that far gone yet. 

Carefully, he slides off of the counter. His footing is unsteady as he stands upright again. Those strong hands are on him again, holding his hips to keep him from falling. Thomas goes to get a good look at his new companion, but a pair of lips land on his before he can get any details. 

And he knows—he  _ knows _ that he should push the person away. But those lips are so soft and plush. Those kisses are so good; the best he’s had the whole time he’s been here. Those hands grip at his hips, holding Thomas close. Thomas’s hands rest on the stranger’s biceps, thick and strong under his touch, and he craves  _ more.  _

The stranger’s tongue teases at his lip, and Thomas opens his mouth immediately. Desperate. Needy. The grip on his hips is near bruising, but Thomas doesn’t mind. Of course, Thomas doesn’t. This is what he likes: demanding, rough attention. One of those strong hands slides around to his back, short nails scraping at his skin. Thomas groans into stranger’s mouth and that hand on his back trails down and grabs at his ass. 

He hates himself the second he does it, but the friction against his dick when he thrusts his hips forward feels so, so nice that he moans. He’s so hard that it almost hurts, and this stranger knows exactly every little thing to do. Every little nibble on his lip, the grip on his hips and ass, every demanding movement of those lips. It’s like this stranger knows every little thing that drives him crazy. And that’s… that’s impossible. Thomas has never been to this part of America; never been to America at all. And he would have remembered someone like this. There is no way he would have forgotten. Unless—no, that’s impossible. 

Thomas’s hand trail their way up the stranger’s arms; one hand grips into the long strands of hair at the back of his neck while the other grips at his shoulder. He’s too desperate; he needs to stop. Calm himself down. They’re still in public and he’s  _ better than this. _

But those lips. 

And those hands. 

He grinds his hips into the stranger’s again as he sucks on that plush bottom lip; he tastes of bourbon and tequila. A low, husky chuckle rings in his ears as he lets go his lip. The stranger bows his head down into the crook of Thomas’s neck, pressing messy kisses there as both hands roughly squeeze his ass. Teeth scrape at his ear lobe and Thomas grips the stranger’s hair tighter. 

“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed a bit, Tommy,” he whispers, hot and breathy against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. 

That voice sounds so familiar, threatening to bring back memories he has tried hard to repress. The lips on his neck, the teeth scraping at his skin, distracting him from any and all thoughts. 

But that voice. 

His head falls to the side to let the stranger to have more access to his neck. 

The stranger that knows his name. 

There’s only one person who’s ever called him Tommy. 

He freezes. His breathing stops. No—it couldn’t—it  _ can’t _ be. He untangles his fingers from his hair. When he’s finally able to pull away from the man, he feels like he’s seen a ghost. 

Phillip Altman stares back at him, and he doesn’t look any different from the last time he had seen him. His dark hair still falls in soft, dark waves around his face, and still has that ridiculous goatee that Thomas always complained about. His pupils are wide, blown with lust; lips swollen and plush and irresistable. 

Thomas swallows, hard. 

“Phillip,” he nearly squeaks out, trying to keep his control. He wasn’t—they shouldn’t have—Thomas never thought he’d see him again. Not after—after—

“Thomas.” His eyebrow quirks up and amusement dances on his features. 

Thomas needs to leave. He needs to go. But Phillip has him trapped, and he’s still so fucking hard that he doesn’t even think he can even move. He tries to straighten his posture, to compose himself. His hands grab either side of his shirt, folding it over his chest again. He can still feel the traces of liquor, saliva and salt on his skin. He feels so  _ dirty _ , and so  _ used.  _ Just like—when he—when Phillip had—

“What are you doing here?” He tries to keep his voice steady. Tries to keep his breathing even. He hasn’t seen Phillip in two years; he’s not going to be a mess in front of him now. 

Phillip shrugs like it’s nothing. “Had a friend invite me. He was actually the one who was supposed to take the shot off of you, but the moment I saw it was you…” he trails off like Thomas is supposed to know what  _ that _ means. How could he possibly? Phillip was the one who— “I was just wondering if I’d ever see you again.”

“It’s been two years.” He shouldn’t have said that.

“You’ve kept track.” Thomas hates the way the lazy smile forms over Phillip’s lips. How the way he moves closer to him, tightens his hold on his lips. Thomas  _ hates _ him. “I missed you.” 

Thomas ignores the way his heart jumps. “You could have called.”

“I got held up.” 

Thomas wants to call him out on his lie; he knows Phillip’s lies all too well now. The only thing that keeps his mouth shut is the way Phillip looks at him, like he still wants him, like he’s the only thing in the room. But Phillip—he wouldn’t—he—

Phillip closes the gap between them again, raising a hand and pushing the hair out of Thomas’s face. “Your hair’s longer. I like it.” 

He’s going to cut it first thing tomorrow morning. (He’s not going to.) 

His hair falls back into his face, the ends tickling at his cheekbones. He wants to brush it away. Move it so he doesn’t have to be reminded of it. But Phillip invaded every inch of his space. He is everywhere, looming over him just like he used to. And Thomas is falling right into it. He wants to clench his fingers into his shirt. Wants to feel the broad chest under his hands. Wants to bury his face into the crook of his neck and—

Thomas gulps. Suppresses his thoughts down. Phillip is  _ nothing _ ; he has always been nothing to him. Even though—even when—no, Phillip has always been nothing. That is all Thomas can afford him to be. 

Phillip leans in and presses his lips against Thomas’s neck. And Thomas wants to give into those lips. It would be so easy to fall back into the same old pattern. He could fall back into the same routine. 

Thomas grips tighter into his own shirt, holding it closer to him. His skin is too sensitive to the scratch of Phillip’s facial hair, to the gentle press of those lips, to the hot breath hitting him with each exhale. It’s too much. All of it is just too much and Thomas can’t take it. 

“I’m sorry.” The words are quiet against his neck. He almost misses them over the chatter and music around them. “I am so sorry, Tommy.” 

The words paralyze him. He shouldn’t. He can’t. 

“You left.” 

Thomas doesn’t give Phillip a chance to speak again. He moves forward and kisses him again. 

Phillip is here. 

Phillip had seen him and wanted him. 

But—

He releases his own shirt and grips into Phillip’s. He can’t think. If he thinks—if he remembers—he can’t let himself. Instead, he focuses his energy on making up for those two lost years. The past is in the past, and he needs to remember that. If he remembers the pain, if he remembers the disappointment, he’ll never move on. (He thought he had moved on.) 

Phillip responds immediately, his lips nearly bruising Thomas, hands falling onto his hips before sliding around him. Thomas feels dizzy, like every inch of him is on fire and he just wants more, more,  _ more _ . 

Philip’s hands slide down him and grab at his ass, pulling him close once more, pushing their hips together; their cocks rub together, both hard and needy, and it takes everything in Thomas’s power to not moan. His fingers cling into the fabric under them, never wanting to let this moment go. It feels like Phillip had never left, like no time had separated them. Like Thomas has actually meant something to Phillip and he’d just forgotten. 

He had forgotten, that is all. 

A cheer near them brings Thomas back to reality, back to the bar in the middle of who the fuck knows where. It must bring Phillip back too, because he pulls away. Or maybe he had remembered. Maybe he realized—

Phillip’s fingers wrap around Thomas’s wrist; those large, strong hands wrapping around him with ease. Without a word, he pulls Thomas away from the bar, away from the people. It takes Thomas a second or two when his head finally clears before he realIzes where Phillip is leading them. He stops, abruptly, and tries to pull Phillip back. 

When Phillip looks back at him, there’s a concerned look written over his features. Thomas just looks at him. 

“You are not bringing me to the bathroom.” 

Phillip quirks an eyebrow as he turns fully and closes any gap between them. “No?” A mischievous glint lingers in his eyes, in his smirk. “Where would you suggest, Thomas?” He leans closer, lips hovering over his ear, his grip on his wrist tightening. His breath hitting against his skin. “Maybe right here. In front of everyone. Show the whole damn place that I can make Thomas McGregor  _ scream. _ ” 

Thomas shudders and tries to ignore the way his cock twitches against its confinements. He needs a better grip on himself. He needs to walk away now. He needs too—

“You have your own place, right?” He asks when he musters the ability to form a proper sentence. 

“I do.” 

“Then shall we?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice; Phillip starts to pull him along towards the exit, out of the stuffy bar air and into the streets. Before they even get anywhere near the his car or apartment or whatever, Thomas feels Phillip push him against the wall in one of the alleyways. His lips meet his greedily; his hands running over the bare skin of Thomas’s chest, fingers teasing lightly at his nipples. 

Thomas groans against his mouth, back arching into the touch. Phillip moves his lips away, trailing them down to Thomas’s neck while his hands move to the front of his jeans. Thomas should care, he  _ really _ should, but he can’t bring himself to. Especially not when Phillip palms him through the layer of clothes. His pushes up into the pressure, desperate and whining for more. Thomas digs his fingers into Phillip’s hair. 

“God, I missed you,” Phillip breathes against his skin, voice deep and husky and going straight to Thomas’s cock. 

Thomas grips his hair tighter. “Shut up.”

Phillip chuckles before scraping his teeth along the sharp point of Thomas’s collarbone and undoing the button of his jeans. Thomas gasps at the gentle brush of fingers teasing at the outline of his erection through the silk material of his underwear. He whines, wantonly, against his better judgement. 

“Planning on getting fucked tonight?” He asks, pressing sloppy kisses to his collarbone, fingers wrapping around his dick through the fabric. 

“I was _ —fuck— _ I was hoping,” he strains to say through the steady pressure and rhythm of Phillip’s hand. All the heat and blood in his body pool into his lower abdomen. It’s been too long since he’s last done something like this, since he’s last been fucked. He’s not going to last long; he’s too pent up already and Phillip knows every little thing that sets him off, every little jerk and twist of the wrist. But he wants to last, wants to show Phillip just how  _ good _ he is and everything that he’s missed. 

Phillip bites at the flesh of his shoulder, tightening his grip. Thomas slumps against his wall, knees starting to give way from underneath him, as he thrusts up into Phillip’s hand. He moans out something that might be Phillip’s name when Phillip moves his lips down from his collarbone to one of his nipples. His fingers grip tighter into Phillip’s hair. Too much—he won’t—everything is too much. 

Phillip moves his hand away to grab at Thomas’s hips, to pull him away from the building just enough to work his underwear and jeans over the swell of his ass. The chilled night air hits against Thomas’s heated skin, making him take a sharp intake of breath as Phillip’s hands smooth over the curve of his ass. Thomas bites at his lip, leaning forward into Phillip,  before kissing him with full force. Phillip nips at his lips as his fingers grip at his ass, one if his fingers sliding into the crack of his cheeks, sliding down until he feels the soft silicone nub. 

“You really haven’t changed, have you?” Phillip chuckles before he presses his fingers lightly against the plug. Thomas moans, too distracted to answer, head falling into Phillip’s shoulder, and hips pushing forward, desperate for any type of contact. His cock throbs, heart pounds in his ears. When Phillip makes a more deliberate push on the plug, Thomas almost loses it. 

Phillip holds him up. “Not yet, baby, not yet,” he whispers in his ear. Thomas whines when Phillip applies the pressure again. “Soon. Think you can hold out a little longer for me?” When Thomas nods, teeth biting hard on his lip, Phillip presses a gentle kiss to his neck. “Good boy.” 

Thomas squeezes Phillip’s shoulders, eyes slipping shut, as he feels the teasing push and pull of the plug inside of him. Phillip’s lips move from his neck down to his chest again, tongue circling around his nipple. Thomas’s grip gets tighter, his back arching once more into the touch as Phillip moves his attention to the other hardening nub. He grinds his hips forward, his clothed erection against Thomas’s exposed one. Thomas keens as his hips meet up with Phillip’s again in an erratic attempt to get the friction he so desperately craves. 

Phillip groans against his skin; the vibrations of it going right through Thomas. He’s hyper aware of every little touch on his skin. Every little touch and kiss and bite send him every bit closer to the edge. He’s wired, wound up so tight. But he has to be good. Because, if he’s good, maybe—

“You like this, don’t you?” Phillip says, lips still attached to his chest. “Being on display like this. Coming apart where anyone can see you.” He drags his tongue down his chest where the line of left over salt lingered. It takes everything Thomas has to stay still. “You’ve always liked being the center of attention.” 

He slowly works the plug out, teasing every inch of the way. Thomas whines, struggling to keep himself away from the orgasm. He’s so close to the edge. So close that he’ll break. He doesn’t—he can’t—

Phillip presses two fingers inside him, the stretch just a bit more than that of the plug. Thomas chokes back a sob. He can’t. He can’t. 

He.

Can’t.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby.” Phillip gives him a tender kiss to his hip while his fingers curl inside him, pressing against his prostate.”It’s okay. You’re doing so good.” 

His legs start to tremble, or have they been? Thomas doesn’t know. All he’s aware of is the excruciating teasing touches against his prostate and Phillip’s tongue running along his cock. He’s going to break. He’s going to burst. 

“Phil—please,” he begs. His nails have dug into the palms by now in his attempts to calm himself. He wants— _ needs _ —release. His control is starting to fade. A single tear slips down his cheek. And he wants to be ashamed, but when he looks down, all he can think about is the way Phillip looks there, tongue running along his dick before those beautiful, plush lips wrap around him as he looks up at him with those wide brown eyes. “ _ Please _ .”

Phillip nods his head around Thomas’s cock, sucking at the same time he hits against his prostate again with a sharp thrust of his fingers. 

Thomas nearly  _ screams _ . 

His vision blacks as he thrust into Phillip’s mouth, his orgasm taking full control of him. His heartbeat echoes in his ears. He tries to focus on the present, but everything is fuzzy. He feels light, like he’s floating toward another planet. 

When he slowly blinks himself back to the world, Phillip is standing in front of him again. His clothing is back on him again and Phillip has a tight grip on him. Thomas tries to stand on his own, but everything feels like jelly. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Phillip says as he tries to steady Thomas. “Just rest a second, baby.” He leans forward and gives his forehead a tender kiss. “You did so good: I’m so proud of you.” 

Thomas feels the lazy grin forming on his lips before he can stop it. But it doesn’t matter. Phillip is proud of him. That is all that matters. 

His head turns into the gentle caress of fingers against the side of his face. 

“Do you need anything, baby?” 

Thomas looks at him. He looks like he had all those years ago, back when Thomas had thought he had cared. But he does care. He’s here now. 

“Promise you won’t leave me again.” 

Phillip looks at him for a second, perhaps a second too long, before a small smile appears on his lips. “I promise.” 

He leans forward and kisses Thomas like he means it. 

Thomas pretends he believes him. 

**Author's Note:**

> come join me over at [tumblr](http://sstensland.tumblr.com/)


End file.
